Unconventional // z.m.

xiii. In Which She Is Weak

Zayn hates himself, he really does.

Pizza and movies went perfectly, mostly because Diamond didn't try to leave. He heard her laugh and saw her smile more times in that evening than in the entire time he'd known her, and she talked to him, she actually did. Sure, they didn't get into the important stuff, but he discovered that her favourite animal is the rhino (the ones with two horns, not one), her favourite colour is orange, she doesn't have a favourite movie, and that she's originally from Jamaica, amongst other things. He also learned that she fidgets a lot when she's nervous, tense, or afraid, that she prefers the right end of the sofa so that she can tuck her legs underneath her the right way, she doesn't like sweetcorn, she loves barbecue sauce, and that she always scratches the spot where the tops of her breasts meet - not for any reason except to keep her hands busy. Zayn longs to kiss that little patch of reddened skin, to leave his mark there for all to see.

But they're friends, and friends don't kiss, or mark each other. Friends who have only technically been friends for one day also don't spend the night, much to Zayn's disappointment. But one thing friends did do?

Have each other's phone numbers.

And in the whirlwind of the moment, when Diamond actually left not angry at him and smiled at him on his doorstep, he forgot to ask.

Again.

Diamond is weak and she knows it.

"Fùck, Zayn," she whimpers. "Shìt, Daddy, oh-"

Their movie night had done nothing but sexually frustrate her. Zayn didn't put on a shirt for one, but every time he laughed and his eyes sparkled and his tongue poked out between his teeth, Diamond imagined that tongue between her legs and those eyes sparkling up at her. He sat slouched with his legs open and Diamond imagined climbing over and riding him. He licked tomato sauce off his fingers and Diamond imagined those fingers having just been inside her. He bit his lip and she wanted to kiss him. His fingers brushed hers as they reached for pizza and she wanted them all over her. It was never-ending torture.

Diamond's hand grows faster and her hips buck wildly as she shoves herself towards the edge, Zayn's name on her lips. Usually she does this if she's had a stream of customers who have nothing for her and she needs release. This time, however, it's as nuch the same reason as it is the opposite; Zayn gives her the best damn òrgasms she's ever had, and she's determined to feel that way again.

But she can't.

Tears spring to her eyes as she works herself harder, faster, the release just beneath the surface but unreachable. It's been this way every night for the last four days since their movie night. In that time she's slept with three men, but none of them were anything as good as Zayn. She didn't come once, not from them, not even from her own hand once she got home.

Zayn has ruined her.

"Pandora Pink's, how may I help you?"

Diamond jumps and looks at the phone pressed to her ear, wondering exactly when she picked it up and why her best friend's voice is currently speaking to her.

"Soph," she breathes. "Hi."

"Oh, hey, T!" She greets enthusiastically. "Thanks for finally getting in touch."

"I know, I know, I've been... busy," she apologises.

"With Zayn?"

"No, not with Zayn," she scoffs, then flushes when she remembers what she subconsciously called to ask. "But, er...."

"Yes?"

"Is there any chance you could give me his number?"

"Aha!"

Diamond groans. "Shut up, Soph."

"Do you like him?" she asks excitedly. "Do you?"

"No, I just-"

"Do you like him?" Sophia repeats softly.

A pause.

A sigh.

"Yes."

Diamond yanks the phone away as a screech sounds in her ear.

"Soph," Diamond calls, "Soph!"

The screeching stops. "Yeah?"

"His number, please?"

"Oh! Oh right, yeah."

Diamonds sighs, smiling nonetheless as she shakes her head. Why is she friends with this girl again?